


We won’t eat the waitress, Hannibal

by CulterVenatorius



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: (not the mains), Established Relationship, Fluff, Homophobic Language, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Will Graham is a Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29655621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CulterVenatorius/pseuds/CulterVenatorius
Summary: Will and Hannibal enjoy dinner at a restaurant until they get interrupted.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 24
Kudos: 209





	We won’t eat the waitress, Hannibal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [APastandFutureNerd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/APastandFutureNerd/gifts).



> Well, this is stupid and bad and I know it. I'm out of practice and it took me ages and I still hate it, but I promised to post it, soooo... sorry?  
> Comments make my day, polite and constructive criticism is welcome.

The stands are closed down for the day, noisy marketers replaced by a few old man playing _boccia_. A few pigeons fight over a scrap and a little yellow cat tries to climb a nearby tree. It is still hot when they cross the market place, but the salty breeze from the ocean and the slowly sinking sun makes the heat of the day more bearable. For all the world, Will and Hannibal look just like another couple on vacation. Two distinguished gentleman with polite manners. If the eyes of the younger are a little bit too piercing, if they see a little bit too much? If the other one’s reflexes are uncannily fast, if his slender fingers look beautifully wrapped around a knife? Well, no-one would care for such details when a drunkard turns up dead. Surely just another victim to their own greed or the organized crime, _misero bastardo_.

The smell of roasted bread and melted steak butter drifting from a nearby restaurant makes Will victim to the growl of his own stomach. He laughs when Hannibal takes his hand and steers him into the direction of an antique building. Usually, Hannibal prefers to feed Will his own home cooked meals, but every once in a while he can’t help himself but showing off – at least that’s what Will calls it. It earned him a good spanking more than once when he called it Hannibal’s need to peacocking (and if the spanking was Will’s intention all along, that is no-one’s business but his own).Hannibal chose this specific restaurant for their modern interpretation of the local specialities. They don’t have a reservation, which is, according to the former psychiatrist, Will’s fault. Apparently Hannibal was too distracted by a certain ex profiler lounging naked in the sun at their pool to remember making a phone call. They are lucky, though, and one table is still available, although they are warned it’s not the best one. The maître d’ leads them through the old building and through an archway outside again to a patio. The is floor made of the same sandstone as every building in the city, it’s colour varying in all shades of ochre. The restaurant lies in the upper part of the city, which provides the guests a wonderful view over the old citadel and the sea below them. The area is enclosed by a small stone wall, ranked by wild vine. Small irregular stairs lead down to the city, vanishing between old buildings. Near to the wall, where the view down to the city is the best is a little pavilion, providing cooling shadow to an empty table. A small metal plate states it as private, only used for the owner or guests of honour. Hannibal and Will are guided to their own table. It truly isn’t the best one. The staff has to pass them going in and out of the kitchen. Will can’t see the ocean without craning his neck, but his sense for aestheticism isn’t as distinct as Hannibal’s. Without any doubt, the food will be good, and that’s what they’re here for.

The drinks come soon, together with a fine selection of antipasti as a starter. Will nurses his whiskey and lets his eyes wander around. Although every table on the terrace is occupied it’s not loud or hectic. Conversations mix with the clatter of cutlery and the sound of the Mediterranean Sea. Hannibal smiles at the peaceful expression on Will’s face. He is beautiful like this and he can’t resist stroking a finger over the golden band on his husband’s rough hand. Will is sometimes still shy about public displays of affection. Today though, he feels light and careless. When he pulls his hand from under Hannibal’s, it’s with a teasing grin. He takes an olive and hovers the morsel in front of his mouth. He waits too long to not be deliberate and long enough to draw Hannibal’s attention to his lips. Will lets his teeth flash when he pulls the green fruit from its wooden pick. He can’t help but feel powerful watching as Hannibal shudders as he swallows visibly and licks his lips.

“Salty” he whispers, just for Hannibal to hear, “Just like your skin this morning.”

Will had watched him plough through the ocean, admired the shifting and pulling of thick muscles under tanned skin. When Hannibal stepped into the shower to wash the sea off, Will followed him, pressed himself against his husband and tasted the salty flesh as he bit down on his shoulder.

“Insolent boy” Hannibal murmurs, just loud enough for Will to hear.

When they had healed, months after the fight with the dragon and their baptism in the sea, Will had shifted their relationship into the physical as well. Since then, there’s hardly a day where they don’t devour each other, but still the mutual craving never seems to be satisfied. It hadn’t taken Will long to learn that even small movements – a sensuous sway of his hips, the batting of his long eyelashes – is enough to make Hannibal practically drooling. Seducing Hannibal Lecter is a tool that’s pointed on both ends, though. Hannibal knows what it does to Will if he roles his crisp white shirt up so the play of tendons and muscles are visible while he presses the air out of a human lung.

Their waitress returns to their table and hands them the menu. Will watches her while she answers Hannibal’s question about the preparation of a dish Will himself can’t pronounce. She’s a young woman, clad in the same black blouse and slags all her colleagues wear. A piercing graces her lower lip and he’s sure that she has removed other facial one’s for the sake of her working place. Will wonders if Hannibal finds her appearance inappropriate in a high end restaurant like this, but her manners are flawless, her movements fluid and practiced as she pours them the wine. Hannibal makes small talk about a local vineyard and she seems happy about his interest in her own opinion. She quickly apologizes to him, though, when other guests call for her.

The food is delicious, the wine tart and refreshing, and their conversation flows easily. Hannibal tells him about the local cuisine and Will answers with puns about the origin of the meat (if you’d ask him it’s the only bad habit he’d picked up from his husband). Will blooms under the besotted look Hannibal gives him. He can’t hold back his smile as Hannibal takes his hand in his when the table is cleared of the starter plates. His thumb strokes the back of Will’s hand while he orders for his _caro marito_. When their waitress leaves, his lifts his hand to caress Will’s cheek, and Will can’t help but lean into the touch.

Their peaceful moment is interrupted by the pair at the table next to them. Will can’t quite understand what they say. It’s not the volume, but the pitch of their voices that makes him look up. It’s a woman and a man, maybe ten years younger than Will. Their clothing is elegant and the woman’s jewellery speak of money. He lets his gaze flicker over them for just a minute. He feels agitation, anger and disgust. Than the man’s eyes meet his for just a second and Will instantly recoils from the onslaught of disgust.

_“Frocio.”_ the man hisses.

One doesn’t have to know Italian to understand the meaning behind the word. While Will tries to gather his wits, the woman waves for the waitress who is quick to appear. The man speaks in a rapid fire Italian to her. Despite Will being a good student and Hannibal a dedicated teacher, his Italian isn’t quite good enough yet. Hannibal, though, understands every word, and Will sees the murderous shine in his eyes only barely hidden by his person suit. He makes a move to turn towards the pair, but Will is quick to put a hand on his. He gives the older man a pleading look. He doesn’t want to have a scene here. They are in hiding, after all, and he just doesn’t want to prolong the situation by starting an argument. The woman at the table had remained silent until now, but she watched the men closely. She must sense that Will doesn’t understand every word. Her mouth twists into a devious grin before she turns to the waitress. Her voice is dripping with venom.

“This is unacceptable! I’m coming here with my husband to have a relaxing evening and then you force me to witness such sodomy? It’s a scandal you even let people like those in your restaurant! I demand you do something!”

She jabs her finger in their direction as if she’s trying to stab the air. Already, other guests start to look up. The waitress looks at Will and Hannibal as she tries to grasp the situation.

“You are right, this _is_ unacceptable. Please, just give me a moment to prepare a better suited place.” With this, she heads to the kitchen. Will still has his hand on Hannibal’s and when he looks in his eyes, the veil is completely gone. The homophobic couple’s fate was already sealed. But if looks could kill, the young waitress would be dead by now.

“We won’t eat the waitress, Hannibal!” Will hisses, knowing all too well what his husband is up to. He probably already has three different ways in mind to stalk, kill and display their victim. Not that Will has any problem with Hannibal’s little habit per se. Killing the rude is something they do together nowadays. Unlike back in Baltimore, Will has a say in who ends up on their table, forcing Hannibal to adjust his definition of rudeness. However, he’d rather kill the pair on the other table. It would be too reckless to kill all three of them, making a connection to the European-American gay couple obvious.

Hannibal cocks his head and blinks once. It’s his own version of puppy eyes Will rarely can resist. Still, he shakes his head, lamenting the fact that he might go unfucked tonight because of it. It’s not only that it would be reckless. He still somehow took a liking to the young woman even if she did defer to the homophobic couple’s wishes. Tell that a pouting cannibal, Will thinks, and stares back at Hannibal.

“I said no, Hannibal.” he whispers.

Before his husband can argue, Will sees the waitress coming back, followed by two other staff members. They head directly to Will and Hannibal.

“I am sorry to interrupt your dinner, but I was made aware of this rather unacceptable situation. Would you please follow me?”

Will’s face turns hot. He knows they didn’t do anything untoward or wrong. Still, he feels ashamed. This emotion is quick to switch into anger, though. However, it wouldn’t do to make a scene, being on the run and all, so he shoots Hannibal a pleading look and stands up.

His husband is seething and Will can feel how much he longs to wrap his finger around the waitress’ neck and squeeze. Outwardly, he remains calm and collected, folding his napkin before placing it aside. They follow the waitress, but instead of leading them the direct way to the next exit, she stops near the table of the rude couple. There, she suddenly turns to Will and Hannibal.

“In the name of our restaurant and the whole staff I want to apologize for you being exposed to such harmful behaviour. As a small atonement we’d like to invite you to the owner’s personal table.”

With that, she gestures towards the pavilion. There are, indeed, two other staff members busy with setting the table and felling a champagne cooler with ice.

“Of course, it is our treat, since we feel responsible for the well-being of our guests. If you please would be so kind to go ahead, I’ll be of assistance to you in a moment.”

She smiles at them and Will could kiss her, because seeing the dumbstruck look on Hannibal’s face is so worth it. So he smiles back and nods and takes Hannibal’s hand to lead him to their new table. Of course, Will couldn’t have predicted such an outcome. That doesn’t change that he told his husband no and now Hannibal must admit that Will was right. The young woman than turns to the couple seated at the table. They stare at her as if someone had emptied a bucket of ice water on them. It must be a shock to them, seeing their entitledness being challenged.

“Sir, Madame, I ask that you leave our establishment right now. Please refrain from visiting us in the future. If you don’t, it will be seen as a violation of our domiciliary rights and the authorities will be called.”

The man opens his mouth in protest, but the two staff members who had until then waited in the background step behind their chairs. Masked as a polite gesture in helping them up, it’s an unmistakable prompt to leave.

Soon, the commotion has settled and everyone (minus the rude couple, of course) is back to eating and chatting. Will enjoys the view from their new table. He can overlook the harbour and witnesses the sun sinking down into the ocean. The champagne is sweet on his tongue. Even sweeter, though, is Hannibal’s grumpily made admission that their waitress has certainly earned a place _at_ and not _on_ their table. It’s as close to “You were right” Will could possibly ever get when Hannibal confirms that they, indeed, won’t eat the waitress.


End file.
